Almost there

Too cool for school in our new apartment

"We have to make the most of this time", Zoe said to me as I tucked her into bed. "This is the last time you and I are just the two of us". Her insightfulness touched me and I agreed. We were going swimming the next morning and then we had to pick up some items in the city center, in an effort to be just a bit more ready for the big day when her little brother will be here. As much as I wanted to nest and make sure I had baby clothes, a changing table and, well a basic livable home, I also wanted to spend every single second with Zoe, chatting, laughing, singing, reading and doing the things that mothers and daughters do together. It was indeed the very last time in our lives when it was just us. I grew teary eyed and hugged her. How would I be able to provide her with the detailed attention and care that I have done the last 7 years? How could a little sibling make up for the time that we will lose out on the two of us? Was it going to be worth it?

Ceramics workshop creations

Within the last month, things have changed rapidly and my life is already completely different. I took over my new apartment in Copenhagen after selling the one in Stockholm and I have not flown since our trip to New York. I need to be in Copenhagen where the baby will be born and I need to have a home I can take him to when he is on the outside. I need to have a home for Zoe and as much as we loved our little apartment in Stockholm, its 34 m2 was not fit for more than her and I, with a bit of good effort. My apartment in Copenhagen is more than twice that size with a giant living room, ready to be divided into a bedroom for Zoe and an average living room. It is on the ground floor, which I initially was hesitant about, but Zoe is already running out to the back yard on her own to play with new friends and bike around on her new bike that I got secondhand for her. She feels secure that she can always knock on our kitchen window and get my attention if she needs to.

After she fell asleep, I made a few more plans that included a ceramics workshop and a trip to the local ice cream shop while we are still just us. Our new Copenhagen life awaits, soon with an extra little person.

Copenhagen awaits

Zoe and I were released from our Sweden lock-down and able to go to Denmark to see our family, leaving on the train this morning. Although we normally like taking the train it was a little drawn out this time, probably because it was during the peek wake ours of the day and despite brave attempts, Zoe couldn't fall asleep for the nap that she usually likes taking. We went to the cafe for coffee (mine = coffee with milk, Zoe's = milk with coffee) and distraction for a bit, but for the last three hours Zoe kept asking if we were on the bridge yet. I noticed her Danish R pronunciation improving slightly each time.

We had four fun days back in Stockholm, staying with my friend who has a new baby and Zoe showed her most caring side, holding the baby, entertaining the baby and eagerly playing with her. It was very nostalgic watching Zoe sit in her old crib with a new baby who was now going to grow in it and bite the white paint off the railing, just like Zoe did three years ago. We then went on play dates, dinner dates and bought some clothes, both for Zoe and me.

Now a busy week in Copenhagen awaits until we both fly out next Wednesday, Zoe back to Stockholm and me back to New York.

The crib

I teared up as I carried the pieces of the white Stokke crib into my apartment from the elevator. The paint had chipped off some places on the top, evidence of a baby biting into the edge while calling for her mom. The wooden bars had screw marks by each hole on each level. The crib had been used at each level from top to bottom. Each piece I carried in reminded me of the days in California when we lived in the two story condo and the crib had been upstairs. It had moved from our bedroom into it's own bedroom, back into our bedroom and back to the baby room again. It was on wheels and I knew how to quickly screw off the side so it could go through the just too narrow doors. It had been dismantled by the moving people and moved to Stockholm where I had put it together again. But the last adjustment I hadn't done. The last adjustment of taking off the side panel so the little girl could get out herself was done by her dad. Because by then I had moved out and the crib had stayed. I couldn't bear taking anything because I wanted Zoe to feel that at least there was something that was the same. But girls grow and recently her dad bought her a 'big girl bed' even though the crib could have been extended with a new mattress. I don't think he knew.

It was less difficult to pick it up than I had feared. I entered the apartment that we had bought together, where Zoe's dad still lives, and went straight to her room. Yet, I couldn't help peaking around on my way out. It is such a nice apartment, I mean, I chose it too. It was weird seeing the furniture we had bought together, some that I had even bought on my own like the red arm chair and the puff. I had never asked for it since none of it would fit in my apartment now. But I missed it, like I missed him and our life together. I considered for a moment if his friendliness earlier when he gave me the key had meant anything. Anything more than 'we can figure out how to be friendly co-parents'. I certainly know I am not over our marriage yet and concluded the other day that it was very likely that I never would get over our split. Just like you don't get over losing someone close. You move on eventually but you don't get over it. I'm doubtful I have even moved on. We still have a ghetto divorce*, so something keeps telling me he thinks the same, but then again, he is not the one to bother about paperwork so it might just be me.

I put the crib pieces in Zoe's small room because they would be picked up even before Zoe would get back in a couple of days. I took a deep breath and thought about how much that crib meant to me. I wouldn't know where to start. The arguments we had over me wanting this lovely crib that cost 900 $ and Zoe's dad not wanting to pay that, only for me to buy it anyway? The millions of times I sat next to it singing songs for a little baby who couldn't fall asleep? The way I would come into a the room with a baby girl standing on her toes to reach up and bite the edges, having paint around her mouth? In any case that part was over. I was handing it down to a dear pregnant colleague of mine who I felt was the only one in this world who should have this crib. I wouldn't sell it for money, I wouldn't give it away. Instead I told her she could borrow it as long as she would help me pray that I would need it back. Because that was probably the greatest sorrow right now, the fact that I didn't need it back myself. 

Instead my colleague will pick it up on Saturday and it will once again be used for a little baby now that my baby is not a baby any longer. 

*a ghetto divorce is a separation without actual paperwork; technically we are still married. One of the consequences is that if one of us dies the other still gets the money and insurance. I have no problem with that.